


idle hands are the devil's work

by odoridango



Series: Tell It Like It Is [7]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, boyfriend shirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odoridango/pseuds/odoridango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin comes back from a long day of meetings and is greeted by a boy on his bed, who knows just how to get him to relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	idle hands are the devil's work

They play at love, and Eren plays his role to a tee, lounging languidly in Erwin’s bed when Erwin comes back from a day full of meetings and political haggling. Not that this is any different, it’s just haggling of another kind, the pleasurable kind.

Eren’s wearing the ensemble Erwin set aside for him earlier, loose black shirt large enough to slip off one broad, tanned shoulder, collarbones on display, sweet, high-cut satin panties showing the tempting join between hip and thigh, cut low to draw attention to jutting hipbones that lead down to a budding trail of hair, and semi-sheer stockings that secure at the upper thigh. It looks good on him, the contrast of black clothing and healthy, tanned skin, and the boy stretches deliberately, giving Erwin an eyeful of that tight ass encased in satin, the bite of elastic into pleasantly plump and muscular thighs.

They don’t greet each other, and Eren waits to hear the sounds of Erwin removing his maneuver gear before deciding to move, his footsteps soft and quiet on the stone floor. Silently, he helps Erwin undo the belt at his waist, wrapping arms around Erwin’s torso. Fingers brush teasingly up Erwin’s sides as Eren rakes his nails lightly over Erwin’s chest, undoing the chest buckle with the flick of his index finger. As always, his skin is warm, radiating heat.

Erwin’s maneuver gear falls to the floor with a clatter, and he slams Eren against the desk, kisses him, fucking his mouth with his tongue, follows the trail of his spine down to squeeze and spread his asscheeks, relishing the low moan he receives as he rubs at Eren’s entrance through the satin.

(“I don’t mind if you make it hurt a little,” Eren gasps into his ear, hand splayed over the strong grip at his hip.

Something dark flutters behind the green of his eyes, and Erwin licks dry lips. He likes what he sees.)

Eren laughs, low, and tears his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere and bouncing off stone, reaches up to latch his mouth onto Erwin’s pulse point, teeth scraping at his Adam’s apple, scrabbles at Erwin’s arms with a gasp when clever fingers find his nipples, pinching and rubbing. A rough thigh grinds against his crotch, and he’s hard enough that the tip of his cock peeks over the top of his panties.

“You’re filthy,” Erwin growls into Eren’s mouth, running large hands up the inside of his legs, snapping the elastic of the stockings against the tender flesh. Eren bucks into his thigh with a shout, eyelashes fluttering, and Erwin captures his mouth again, kissing him sloppily, wetly, Eren with his mouth half-open and moaning as Erwin hauls him up, and carries him to the bed.

He rucks up Eren’s shirt, suckles vivid bruises into his neck, but he bats away the wandering hands that reach toward his fly.

“Commander,” Eren groans beseechingly, but Erwin hauls him up with an arm and attacks his nape instead, and Eren shakes to pieces right in his hands, moaning and whimpering and shouting hoarsely. His back arches and his hips buck wildly, legs trembling, and the leaking white of his precum is stark against the sweet lace of his panties, his cockhead pressed tight against his belly. He shivers against Erwin’s chest as Erwin’s cock slides in between his thighs, right in the space above his stockings.

“Good boy,” Erwin whispers into an ear, nibbles at the lobe as he thrusts and grinds against Eren’s cock, and his breath deepens as he watches his cock ruin the soft insides of Eren’s thighs, rubbing up against those innocent panties, watches Eren’s kiss-reddened mouth part on another moan and swooping in to swallow it. He comes with a shout, in between Eren’s thighs, watches his cum slide down tan legs.

Knocking Eren onto his back is easy, and he loves this, that he’s big enough and strong enough to pin this beautiful boy to the bed, and that Eren lets him do that, Eren who can tie his hands behind his back and make him beg for it in the middle of the day. The panties are only held together by the bows at the sides, and he unties them, rips the underwear off like he’s opening a gift to himself, forcibly parts Eren’s thighs and takes his dick down to the root, pressing Eren’s hips against the bed. Eren tries vainly to buck against Erwin’s grip, and can’t hold back his shouts of pleasure as Erwin swipes his tongue around the head, digging his thumb into the slit, sucks at the vein running up the underside, stopping just at the brink of orgasm until Eren’s a sobbing mess. When he withdraws, Eren still hasn’t gotten to come, and he’s gorgeous, flushed and sex-tousled, shirt rucked up above nipples wet with the saliva Erwin had put there, love bites scattered across his shoulders and stomach, Erwin’s cum still marking his thighs and those damnable stockings. And there’s something dirty-sweet and filthy in the way Eren parts his legs when Erwin commands him to, the shy squirms, hesitant fidgeting, because Eren is performing for him, playing a part for him, and there’s a slight twist to the boy’s mouth that tells him that Eren knows exactly what he wants, and how to give it to him.

So Erwin bends him double, hands clasped under Eren’s knees, and swipes a tongue across that clenching hole, softens it and delves into it, makes Eren scream and gasp and writhe underneath him. It makes him high, makes him wet his fingers with Eren’s precum and sin k them inside, drags out whimpers and moans from between Eren’s lips with each brush of his fingers against his prostate. He doesn’t let him rest, doesn’t let him recover, and Eren’s screaming the second time he comes, but by the third he can only groan, and his thighs tremble against where they rest at Erwin’s hips, hips bucking helplessly when Erwin snaps the elastic against his thighs again.

It’s only then that Erwin takes him, sleepy-eyed, quiet Eren whose pleasure comes in the soft panting and stretched iterations of his name, presses in soft and sweet with the slightest resistance, and Eren moves like something shy and new, wraps his arms around Erwin’s shoulders, moving his hips slowly, and letting Erwin do the work when his legs start to give out, head against his chest, laying lazy kisses against his skin and sucking the sensitive skin of his neck, scraping fingers against his nipples, and down his sides. When his orgasm comes Erwin marks it, claims it for his own with a searing kiss. This Eren is the truest out of the Eren’s he has known, and sometimes when they have sex like this, Eren buries his head in his shoulder and shakes, maybe cries, and it feels like making love.

But for now, Eren looks morosely down at himself, drags a finger through the myriad puddles of cum staining his skin. “I’m all sticky,” he frowns, and somehow just watching him roll those stockings down his legs makes Erwin want to have another go. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

Erwin shakes his head, watches the slight limp and sway of Eren’s hips as he walks naked to the bathroom. Eren pauses at the door, raises an eyebrow.

“A _shower_ ,” Eren reiterated slowly, and crooks a finger at him, grinning like a little demon, all green spitfire. Playtime Erens are pleasant, but this kind of Eren is his favorite too. “Don’t you recognize an invitation when you hear one? _Commander._ ”

Doesn’t take much more convincing for Erwin to follow him in, to brace him against the tiles, hear his laugh echo and bounce off the walls, and wonder exactly how far they’ve played into each other’s hands.


End file.
